The unsavoury practice of growing Irish people by grafting newborns to the backs of horses is coming under increasing pressure from human rights groups. The notorious method is already prevalent in Ireland as the cost of child-rearing is reduced to the price of two operations and some hay for the horse, but there are fears the precarious nature of the Irish economy will drive more families into the shady practice.
The Irish government voiced concerns that making the practice illegal would simply drive desperate families into the arms of unscrupulous back-street veterinaries who might graft children to less viable animals like pigs, goats and geese, which may in turn lead to feelings of inadequacy in later life.
A UN spokesman announcing the ban said. “We sympathise to a degree with parents just wanting to cut the costs of raising children, but the whole thing is sick enough without dressing the parasitic children in silky pyjamas, forcing the horses round an obstacle course and betting on the outcome. This is not what civilisation is about.”
Welsh rugby link: Stephen Jones owns a horse, but it is not certain whether it has an Irish growth.
A former Welsh rugby international has applied for a super-injunction to prevent the world knowing about his secret attempt to raise a million pounds for a well-known charity by risking his life climbing up mountains and skiing to the poles.
Sources close to the player voiced concerns that attempts to reveal his identity via twitter, his personal website and internationally renowned intellectual chat site Gwlad, had been circulating since the start of the year and had begun to trickle slowly into the mainstream press.
The players’ legal representative argued that revealing his client’s identity and what he was up to presented a real danger that people would emerge from feeding at their celebrity infested news troughs and hear something useful and life-affirming, thus risking mental meltdowns and spontaneous combustions on an epic scale. There was also a significant risk that the player’s efforts might also help the fight against cancer, and well, we can’t have that can we?
The terms of the super-injunction mean that no-one is allowed to mention the super-injunction. The player involved and any teams he may have played for, plus any mountain he may have climbed, including – for the sake of argument – Mount Everest, do not and have never existed, and anyone currently alive or due to be alive from now until the rapture is required by law to stick their fingers in their ears and make a noise like ‘blublublub’ if they hear any mention of the thing that never happened – ask any current journalist for an expert demonstration of how this is done; they’re ahead of the game on this.
For anyone who is hitting a point in their life where they sit back and look at what they’ve truly achieved and experienced and are starting to feel a bit down at the fact that it’s involved too much fizzy lager, chips and urinating on cashpoints and much too little of anything of any actual use, please, for the love of God and your own sanity, do not venture near any news of Richard Parks and his amazing stunning feats of balls-out courage. It may just make you want to curl up into a little ball at the bottom of your airing cupboard and have a little sob.
Looking to make his final push to the summit of Everest as part of his gruelling 737 challenge for charity, if anyone deserves the privilege of being able to look down on the rest on the world right now it’s this guy. And a lot more of the world should be looking up to him.
Today, the world apparently would much prefer the idea of hearing about some whales being stranded, a rich French bloke being in a prison and a load of politicians failing to sort out the middle-east again. It would be great if a lot more people started pointing the media’s attention to a selfless guy currently devoting his life to supporting a charity by living on the edge of human endurance and showing immense courage and humility in the process. It wouldn’t hurt anyone over the next couple of days if their brains opened up to give a bit of attention to one of the world’s good guys, and the media could improve it’s own reputation a bit by lending a hand.
Here’s hoping this reaches a wider cyber-audience, more people support what Richard is doing and above all else, he comes home safe and sound to the hero’s welcome he deserves. Godspeed Richard Parks.
Television images of Gareth Edwards’ famous try for the Barbarians against New Zealand in 1973 have made the 38 light year journey to the various planets, moons and satellite mega-cities of the Arcturus system prompting a surprise first contact message from a high-ranking official who looks a bit like a luminous krill.
“Congratulations”, began the video message, “your planet has attained a level of cultural sophistication that merits some sort of relationship with us, maybe like a Christmas card or something for starters, then maybe move on to eating each others parents like truly civilised people. We like this ‘try’ of yours and much desire to make offerings of glandular secretions at the temple which you will doubtless have built on the site of this glorious act. Take us to this Gareth Edwards so that we may suckle. What a score!”
Sadly, our first extra-terrestrial visitors (if you don’t count John Redwood) revised Earth’s new found level one cultural attainment status after it emerged that the world had not installed Edwards as leader and the Phil Bennett dance was not a universally recognised social greeting.
UN General Secretary Ban-Ki Moon said that he was sorry that our new friends had not found us to their liking, but was convinced they’d be back in 2037 when the Gibbs Wembley try arrives; probably with a massive stash of beer and ginger wigs and in a really good mood.
All members of Team Wales are to be given Mr Wolf’s number and are to be watched over by Chief Executive Roger Lewis to make sure it goes in their phones.
It follows a recent epidemic of Welsh stars determined to press the self-destruct button on their careers by epically failing to have a normal quiet night out with friends without it finishing up with sirens, tear gas and depressing column inches in the papers.
Mr Wolf has been hired by the WRU following his impressive work for Marcellus Wallace in Pulp Fiction assisting John Travolta and Mace Windu in disposing of a body with military precision.
His role will be to sit at home waiting for a call from a Team Wales member along the lines of “Er…hello? Is that Mr Wolf? I’ve er…let myself down”. This will then see him leap into action and arrive on the scene of whatever desolation has been caused and do whatever is necessary to mop it all up before the press and the rozzers get wind of it.
Members of the public who attend nightclubs, journey on trains or hang around the M4 hard shoulder in the middle of the night are advised that if Mr Wolf approaches them and says “If you talk about this to anyone the last thing you see will be your intestines being worn around my neck like a mutherfudgin’ Hawaiian Elvis”, they should be reassured that he does very much mean it.